"That's it all right," he said, feeling a tightening in his stomach.
They rode back south along the fringe of the wood until they located the split oak tree that marked the spot where Will had entered Grimsdell two nights previously. By daylight, he felt no need to dismount. They rode into the trees, occasionally bending forward to avoid branches and creepers that grew across the narrow trail, the dog moving silently ahead of them.
Will's training reasserted itself. In spite of his growing nervousness at entering this unfriendly place again, he was able to retrace the path he had taken.
"Where did you see the lights?" Alyss asked, and he hesitated, thinking for a second, before pointing.
"They were moving in that direction," he said. "Hard to tell how far away they were."
Alyss looked critically at the tangle of trees and creepers around them. "Couldn't have been too far or you'd never have seen them through all this. Come on," she added, and slid down from the saddle. Will dismounted and she pointed in the direction he had indicated.
"Let's take a look in that direction," she said. Will signaled for Tug to stay on the track. He clicked his fingers and pointed, gesturing for the dog to move ahead of them, and she slid easily though the undergrowth and beneath the lower branches. The going was harder for Will and Alyss, however, and before long he found it necessary to unsheath his saxe knife and hack a way through the tangle. Alyss smiled quizzically at the way the heavy blade sliced through tough creepers, thick vines and even small saplings.
"That's a handy weapon to have," she said, and Will nodded, grunting as he chopped through a thick branch and tossed it aside.
"It's a weapon and a tool," he said. Then, unexpectedly, the way ahead was clear.
"Well, what do you know?" Alyss said, nodding her head in satisfaction.
The dog waited for them, sitting on a narrow, but unmistakably man-made, track through the woods, running parallel to the main trail they had been following.
23
Alyss glanced from side to side along the narrow lane that had been cut through the trees. "Which way were the lights moving, do you remember?" she asked. Will was already nodding in anticipation of the question.
"I can't be totally sure," he said, "but I'd say they were moving along this track."
Alyss pointed to the ground. "I'm no tracker," she said, "but they say Rangers are. Any sign of traffic along this path?"
Will dropped to one knee and studied the ground. He frowned after a moment or two. "Could be," he said. "Difficult to say, really. There are faint marks here. But you'd expect that on a track like this, wouldn't you?"
"But not the sort of thing you'd expect if someone were running back and forth carrying a lantern?" she asked, a slight tone of disappointment in her voice. Will shook his head. Then, remembering one of Halt's earliest lessons, he looked up into the forest canopy above them. Always remember to look up, his mentor had told him. It's the one direction most people never think to check.
Now his eyes narrowed as he saw something in the trees, something out of place. Alyss, seeing the change of expression on his face, looked up as well.
"What is it?" she asked, as Will moved toward one of the larger trees his eyes seeking and finding the hand- and footholds he would need.
"Vines," he said, at length. "I've seen them growing down from the higher parts of trees. But I've rarely seen them growing at right angles to them."
He was a natural climber and he swarmed up the tree in seconds, seeming to Alyss to glide up the apparently smooth trunk. Four meters from the ground he stopped, and she saw he was studying a green creeper that grew along one of the larger branches, then led off toward the neighboring tree, sagging in a loop between the two of them.
"It's rope," he called down to her. "Dyed green to look like a vine, but rope sure enough." He traced the line of the rope as it led from one tree to the next, running along above the track they had discovered. He nodded to himself, satisfied, then slid lightly down to the ground beside her again.
"No need for someone to run up and down with the light," he said. "They could sling it on that rope on a pulley and haul it back and forth with a light line."
Alyss ruffled the dog's head affectionately. "And this young lady sensed the people doing it-maybe scented them or heard them. That's why she growled," she said. "My bet is if we looked we'd find other trails like this and other horizontally growing vines."
"It doesn't explain the Night Warrior," Will pointed out, and Alyss smiled at him.
"Perhaps not. But if he were real, why bother with trick lights?" she said. "Odds are he was another trick-even less substantial than the lights, judging by the dog's reaction. Now show me exactly where you were when you saw it."
She led the way back to where Tug waited on the main trail The little horse looked at them quizzically, as if wondering what he'd missed. Will reached up to the bedroll behind the saddle and untied it. Alyss watched curiously as he withdrew the component parts of the recurve bow. He fitted them together and strung the bow in a series of deft movements. Then he tested the draw and met her gaze with a look of fierce satisfaction.
"That's more like it," he said, laying an arrow on the string. "If we're going looking for this damn Night Warrior, I'd rather do it with a bow in my hands."
He led the way forward until they reached the edge of the mere. Even by daylight, it was a sinister place, with curtains of mist rising from the far side. The water itself was like black marble, smooth and impenetrable to the eye. Bubbles rose to the surface further out, hinting at the presence of creatures lurking below in the depths.
"Here," Will said. "As near as I can remember. And the figure was out there… toward the far side of the mere."
Alyss looked shrewdly in the direction he indicated, then looked along the edge of the mere, where the path ahead of them followed the bank. At one point, it cut inside a small promontory, covered in trees and shrubs.
"Let's take a look over there," she said.
Will followed her, his curiosity mounting. "What have you got in mind?" he asked. It was clear to him that Alyss had formed a theory of some kind. But she held up a hand to forestall his questions.
"It's just an idea," she said vaguely. Her eyes were searching the ground ahead of them and to either side of the path. "You're better at this than I am," she said. "Check the ground in any clear spot."
Will complied, his trained tracker's eye running over the ground. There was faint evidence that someone had been there before them-perhaps as recently as two nights ago, he thought.
"Am I looking for anything in particular?" he asked, his eyes quartering the ground.
"Scorch marks," said Alyss, and as he heard the words, he saw the large bare patch of ground, where the snow had melted and the grass beneath was dry and singed.
"Here," he said. Alyss joined him, dropping to one knee and running her fingers over the dry, brittle grass. She let go a small grunt of satisfaction.
"All right," Will told her. "I've found your scorched grass. Now what does it mean?"
"You've seen a magic lantern show?" she said. As children in the Ward at Castle Redmont, they had often seen a traveling entertainer's magic lantern show, where the shadows of cutout figures-stars, half moons, witches and their cats-were projected onto the wall of a room by a candle's light.
"I'm guessing," she said, "that your Night Warrior is the same thing in principle."
"But he was huge!" Will protested. "And he must have been thirty or forty meters from here. You'd need an awfully powerful light to manage that."
Alyss nodded. "Exactly. And a powerful light would mean an awful lot of heat-hence the scorched ground here."
"But the distance…" Will began. After all, the shows they'd Seen as children had been staged inside rooms, with the shadows barely a few meters from the light source.
"There are ways of focusing light so it becomes a beam, Will. It possible, believe me. It's very expensive and there are only a few craf
tsmen who can fashion the equipment for it. But it can be done. A powerful light, a focusing device and a cutout figure, and hey presto, your giant warrior appears thirty meters away."
Will was still perplexed. "On what?" he asked. "There's no wall there to project on."
"On the mist," Alyss said. "It's like a curtain it's so thick, and look how it rises from the mere in a line. That would give the flickering, pulsating effect you noticed too-as the mist eddied and moved."
It made sense, he saw. He was willing to take Alyss's word that it was technically possible. And if that were so, he was ready to pay someone back for the terror he'd experienced in the wood two nights ago.
"Someone is going to a lot of trouble to keep visitors away," Alyss said thoughtfully. "I wonder why?"
The anger was rising in Will now, along with a sense of relief-relief that there might be a logical explanation for all of this, and a living, breathing person to account for it all. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to bring that person to account.
"Let's find him and ask him," he said, grim-faced. But Alyss was glancing at the sun and shaking her head.
"We're out of time," she said. "My escort will be back in a few minutes to pick me up. And since they are being followed, they can hardly ride around in aimless circles while I frolic in the woods."
"Fine," said Will. "You go on back. I'll keep looking for this… whoever it is."
Alyss laid a hand on his arm, and kept it there until he met her gaze. She shook her head slightly, seeing the anger, seeing the determination in his eyes.
"Not now, Will," she said. "Leave it for now and we'll come back later-together."
He said nothing and she continued. "Let's do a little more research, find out a little bit more about all this. The more we know when we go looking, the better. You know that."
Reluctantly, he nodded. His training had taught him that when you were entering enemy territory, it was best to find out all you could beforehand. Alyss saw the angry light go out of his eyes and took her hand from his arm. She smiled at him.
"Now give me a ride back to the forest edge."
"You're right," he said as he swung up astride Tug, then leaned down to help her mount behind him. "It's just that I wanted someone to pay for the way I felt the other night."
Alyss, her arms around his waist, squeezed him gently. "I don't blame you," she said. "And you'll get your chance, believe me." She was silent for a few moments as they rode back through the forest, bending low over Tug's neck from time to time to avoid the low-hanging creepers and branches that obstructed the trail. Then she spoke again.
"You know, it might be a good idea if we sent in a report to Halt and Crowley, to let them know what we've found so far. They might have some ideas about all this. We'll send it by message pigeon."
Message pigeons, Will knew, were trained by the Diplomatic Service to return to their last place of rest. Once a pigeon had flown back to its home base, it would be ready to return to the spot from which it had been released. Nobody knew how the birds managed to fix the positions in their minds, but they were invaluable for communication in the field. Alyss continued.
"I'm being watched, so I have to get back to the castle. But could you ride back, make contact with the pigeon handler, and send off a report?"
Will nodded agreement. There was certainly plenty to tell his superiors-even if, so far, there were no conclusions to be drawn.
"How will I know your man?" he asked.
"He'll know you. When he sees you, he'll make contact."
They were back at the edge of the forest now and the going was clearer. Will touched Tug with his heels and the little horse broke into a canter. As they reached the small copse of trees where he'd met Alyss, she slid quickly from the saddle, glancing anxiously along the road to the point where her escort should appear. So far, there was no sign of them and that meant there was no sign of the men following them either.
"You'd better make yourself inconspicuous," she said, and Will nodded, urging Tug into the shadows under the trees. The dog followed, lying prone in the long grass.
From his position, Will could see the bend in the road a couple of hundred meters away. Now he saw the first rider in Alyss's escort rounding the bend.
"They're here," he said softly, and Alyss ran quickly to a thick clump of bushes at the edge of the trees, unfastening her short cloak and pulling the tunic over her head as she did so. She was wearing only a brief shift underneath the tunic and Will turned away hurriedly as he caught a glimpse of bare shoulders and arms. He heard rapid rustling from the bushes, then Alyss called to him.
"You can open your eyes now." She sounded vaguely amused at his embarrassment.
She had donned a long white riding habit over her tights and riding boots. The cloak, tunic and knife belt were bundled together at her feet. Will glanced along the road. The four-man escort, grouped around the mannequin tied to Alyss's horse, was almost up to them. From the shelter of the bushes, Alyss signaled to them. She turned and waved at Will, a conspiratorial grin on her face.
"See you back at the castle," she said. Then, in what was obviously a carefully rehearsed piece of confusion, the escort was alongside her. The horses milled back and forth, confusing the scene, and one of the men released a slip knot, allowing the mannequin to slide sideways off the horse. Before it hit the ground, Alyss had swung up into the saddle. Another member of the escort bent quickly to retrieve the mannequin and within a matter of seconds the group was riding on, the mannequin already half folded and out of sight.
As they moved away, Will waited, unmoving, in the trees. They were still in sight when Tug's ears twitched and the dog let out a low rumble.
"Still," Will told them both. Sure enough, two men-at-arms were rounding the bend, looking cautiously along the trail to make sure they hadn't closed up too far on the party they were following. Will sat, unmoving, as they rode past. He gave them several minutes' grace, then he rode out, heading south to find Alyss's pigeon handler.
24
Will performed in the men-at-arms' barracks that evening. It was normal practice for a jongleur to spread himself around. After all, if he were to perform in the main hall every night, the audience there would soon grow bored with his repertoire. And the soldiers in a remote castle such as Macindaw could often prove to be more than generous. They had little to spend their money on in a small, remote shire like that one. As a result, he could expect to make his purse considerably heavier if they enjoyed his work.
Furthermore, while a visiting entertainer might expect a small cash bonus from the castle lord at the end of his tenure, his chief payment came in the form of shelter, food and accommodation. A performer looking for hard cash would usually find it among the soldiers, or at the local tavern, if there were one.
In addition to all these excellent reasons, Will had another motive for taking himself to the barracks room that night. He wanted to get the men talking, to hear the local gossip and rumors about the forbidding Grimsdell Wood and the black mere. And nothing loosened men's tongues like an evening of music and wine, he thought wryly.
By now, he had become an accepted part of Macindaw life and people would be more likely to open up to him. In addition, the men-at-arms would feel more secure than the country folk who went home each night from the Cracked Flagon to their isolated, unprotected homes and farms. The men here were well armed and relatively secure behind the solid walls of a castle. That, if nothing else, would help to make their tongues a little looser.
He was greeted cheerfully when he arrived-all the more so when he produced a large flagon of apple brandy to help the night along. His standard repertoire of country folk songs, jigs and reels was exactly what this audience wanted. And he added a few of the bawdier numbers he had been taught by Berrigan as well: Old Scully's Daughter and a rather coarse parody of The Knights of Dark Renown titled The Knights Whose Pants Fell Down, among others. The evening was a success and the coins showered into his mandola ca
se as the hours passed.
At length, he and half a dozen of the group were left lolling around the dying fire, brandy tankards in their hands. He had set the mandola aside. The singing was over for the night and the men were content with that. He had given them good value and now he once again experienced that strange phenomenon where, having performed for an audience for an hour or so, he was accepted into their midst as if they had known him all their lives.
The talk was the usual chatter of bored soldiers. It concerned the shortage of available females in the area, and the boredom of life a remote castle, hemmed in by the winter snows. It was a boredom tinged with fear, however. There was no telling when the Scotti tribes might launch an attack across the border and, of course, there was the troubling mystery surrounding the lord's illness. As the men talked more freely, Will probed subtly and discovered that they had little respect for his son, Orman.
"He's no warrior," one of them said in a disgusted tone. "I doubt he could hold a sword, let alone swing it."
There was a rumble of agreement from the others. "Keren's the one for us," said another. "He's a real man-not like Orman, a jumped-up bookworm with his nose forever stuck in a scroll."
"That's when he's not looking down it at such as us," a third put in, and again there was an angry growl of assent. "But as long as he's Syron's heir, we're stuck with him," the man added.
"What sort of man is Syron?" Will ventured to ask. Their eyes turned to him and they waited for the most senior among them, the sergeant major, to answer.
"A good man. A good laird and a brave fighter. A just leader, too. But he's to his bed now and little chance he'll recover, if you ask me."
"And we need him now more than ever, with Malkallam on the loose again," said one of the soldiers. Will looked at him and recognized the sentry he had spoken to when he had left the castle several nights previously.
"Malkallam?" he said. "He's this wizard you talk about, isn't he?"
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